Everything Falls Apart
by hinkykneazel
Summary: Hermione Granger is just over 40 when everything in her life falls apart: her marriage, her job, and her peace of mind. How does she pick up the pieces and build a new, more satisfying life?
1. Chapter 1: Here Comes the Rain

**Everything Falls Apart**

**Chapter 1: Here Comes the Rain**

Author's Note: Late September 2020. Hermione and Ron separate due to Ron's sexuality. Harry comforts his best friend.

Hermione rested her head against the cool glass of the window overlooking the meadow behind the home she had shared with Ron for most of their marriage. Rain lashed at the shutters outside and slid down the surface in front of her eyes, yet went unnoticed. Her thoughts were jumbled; her heart heavy. Yet her eyes were still dry.

"_Mione, I am sorry," Ron said as he knelt in front of her. He held her hands gently as his eyes pleaded for her to understand. "I don't know how to make this any better, but I never wanted to hurt you."_

_She sat on the sofa stunned. Her mouth opening and closing without any words coming out. His admission that he was in love with someone else, someone male, was not what she had expected from this conversation._

"_How long?" she finally said, looking into his eyes for the first time since he had stumbled his way through his confession. "How long have you known? How long have you been cheating on me?"_

"_I, um," Ron started. He took a deep breath in and continued, "Not long. I mean, since school. I've been denying it since sixth year. A couple of blokes after school, before us, but then nothing until a year ago. I'd been faithful to you until then."_

_She pinched the bridge of her nose. He rubbed his forehead and moved to sit next to her. Neither looked directly at the other._

"_We haven't had sex in three years. I guess I should have realized that something was wrong," Hermione said. "I just never thought…oh Ron, did you ever love me?" she cried as she turned to face him._

"_Of course I did, Mione. I still do. I just…"Ron's face was streaked with tears._

"_You're just in love with someone else," Hermione finished his sentence for him as she often did. "So, what now? What happens now?"_

"_I don't think you want me to stay here. I thought I'd stay at Seamus's…"_

"_Seamus? It's Seamus?" Hermione asked incredulously, with a slightly maniacal laugh._

_Ron ducked his head and turned bright red. "Yeah…so, other than that, I don't know. However you want to handle things. Telling the kids, the family, legally ending the marriage. Whatever you think is best."_

"_OK," she nodded. "I think you should just go now. I don't want to talk about this anymore right now." _

_Hermione felt the beginning of a headache. She felt as if a part of her was standing outside of this whole mess and observing. She could hear the lack of emotion in her voice, even though yet another part of her was screaming inside her brain. She closed her eyes, lay back on the sofa, and turned her back to her husband. "Just go."_

She had heard him sigh before leaving the room. She had listened to his footsteps on the second floor as he had packed his bags. He had stopped at the door and just before leaving, he had whispered, "I am truly sorry."

Now, hours later, she was standing at the window but seeing nothing. She still had not cried, nor had she turned on the lights when the sun set and the rain began. She hadn't eaten when dinner time had come. She just stood at the window and watched the rain.

The hearth flared into life and Harry Potter stepped through into the darkened living room. He waited for his eyes to adjust and then called out, "Hermione? You home? Hermione?"

She saw her still standing at the window in the dark. The rain had stopped and the tears had finally come. Harry stepped up behind her and put his arms around her shoulders. She tensed for a second, and then melted into his embrace. Her silent tears turned to sobs that wracked her body.

They stood there for several minutes as fifteen years of uncertainty and disappointment washed through her. She had never felt totally secure in her marriage with Ron, and now she knew why. Emotions held at bay for so long finally found escape and swept through her as Harry held her in his arms and rocked her gently.

"I suppose it is better knowing than not," Hermione said sniffling and offering him a weak smile.

Harry handed her his handkerchief and led her to the kitchen. "You don't have to be brave or strong right now, Hermione. No one's here but you and me." He sat her at the table and turned to the cabinets. "How about some hot chocolate, hmm?"

Hermione nodded as she blew her nose. Harry winced. "You can keep the hanky."

She smiled weakly again. Harry always tried to lift her mood when she was down, usually due to Ron's behavior. She sighed and asked, "How long have you known? And who else knows?"

He placed the steaming mug in front of her and sat down. "I've suspected for a while. I mean, I knew he experimented a bit before you guys finally got together, but then, who didn't. But he told me about a week ago. He asked me how he should tell you. What he should do. I don't think anyone else knows except the three of us and his…"

"Seamus," Hermione said flatly.

"Yeah, Seamus," confirmed Harry.

"You know, we hadn't been intimate in three years. And before that, it was so rare after we had Hugo. I just thought it was the strain of raising a family and working on our careers. But then, Ron and I had never really been passionate. Just comfortable." Hermione sighed and put her head in her hands. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Harry leapt from his chair and enfolded the woman who had been a sister to him for more years than he could remember. "No, Mione! There's nothing wrong with you. Ron's just finding himself finally. I wish I could make it hurt less. You are wonderful and special and… and… Ron should've figured out what he wanted a long damn time ago. Ginny is going to hex him six ways to Friday when she finds out."

"I just…nothing is what I expected it to be. Nothing is what I wanted it to be." Hermione sobbed into Harry's shoulder. After a few minutes, she gasped, "Oh gods! What are we going to tell the kids?"

Harry smoothed her hair. "The truth. You know they deserve nothing less. That's how you've raised them." He wiped her eyes with the handkerchief and stood up, bringing her with him. "Now, let's get you an overnight bag packed. You are staying with Ginny and me tonight… not alone."


	2. Chapter 2: Dead on the Inside

**Chapter 2: Dead on the Inside**

Author's Note: October 8, 2020 with flashback to September 2017. Draco signs the divorce papers and reminisces about Hermione.

Draco Malfoy read through the papers that would complete the largest business deal of Malfoy Enterprises since the war. Rather than profit projections and asset spreadsheets, his mind lingered on the package sitting on the far corner of his desk, the one he had pointedly ignored all afternoon.

His accountant's voice droned on, pointing out details that were particularly beneficial to the overall financial health of the company. Usually Draco pored over every number himself and considered every nuance of the business, taking a personal hand in dragging his family's holdings and name back to their pre-war status. But today, all he could think of was the divorce settlement tucked into the plain manila envelope, waiting for his signature.

"Enough, Howard," Draco cut the squirrely little man off. "Just prepare the final presentation for the board of directors meeting tomorrow. I'll sign off on it before I head home." He waved at the door in obvious dismissal and reached over to the packet.

Hearing the door close, he drew the papers out and skimmed the pages to make sure that neither his nor Astoria's lawyers had made any last minute changes. Satisfied, he initialed each page and quickly signed the document that would finally and officially end his sixteen-year marriage to one of the most boring, beautiful, and inoffensive pureblood women he had ever known.

He breathed a massive sigh of relief. It wasn't as if it were her fault that their marriage was dead, nor had she asked for an end to it. But with their only child, Scorpius, doing well at school and only home for the holidays and short periods during the summer, they lived completely separate lives.

His father had argued against the divorce and couldn't understand why Draco just didn't find a discreet mistress as he had done many years ago. His mother worried more about the social consequences than anything else. Draco had set Astoria up with a posh townhouse in a magical neighborhood in London, a tidy trust fund, and an annuity that would leave her wanting for nothing. The majority of the Malfoy fortune was entailed and distributed throughout the family's holdings and not his personally, since his father still lived, which limited how much her lawyers could carve from him. Scorpius was well taken care of, with rooms with each parent and at the Manor. He had taken his son, now in his fourth year at Hogwarts, on a three-week trip through Europe during the summer holiday. The two had spent the time hiking the Alps, Draco lost in his thoughts and Scorpius sketching every vista and wildflower.

Besides his love and pride for his son, Draco felt nothing anymore. For so many years he had felt dead inside without noticing it. He leaned back and closed his eyes. His mind wandered back to when he had first realized how empty he was.

"_Dad. Dad? Dad!" Scorpius practically jumped on his father to get his attention before he looked over to where Draco was staring. A large group of people, many with bright red hair, were talking excitedly over one another._

_Draco could hardly breathe. He hadn't seen Hermione in over a decade, not since Paris. And there she was hugging and laughing with two red-haired children who must be hers by Weasley, who stood just to the outside of the group looking slightly uncomfortable._

_She still looked good, better than many of the other mothers her age. He couldn't tear his eyes from her, even when she looked directly at him and nodded slightly before turning back to the young girl who must be her daughter starting at Hogwarts this year._

"_Dad?" Scorpius's frustrated voice finally penetrated and Draco turned to him. "Sorry." He seemed to be saying that a lot lately. Sorry that your mother couldn't be bothered to say farewell at the train. Sorry that your grandparents drag you to society events to increase their own prestige. Sorry that your father is an emotional zombie._

_Draco knelt down to put himself at Scorpius's level and gave him a hug. "Take care of yourself and that new artist set I gave you, but don't neglect your studies in order to sketch all the pretty girls," Draco teased lightly and ruffled his son's platinum blonde hair. Scorpius smiled shyly and blushed before turning quickly and boarding the train back to school._

_Once the train was leaving, Draco turned to see her looking at him curiously from a distance before her attention was captured by some comment from Potter that had her smiling and shaking her head._

_And just like that, he was smitten again and knew that he had to do something about the wasteland of his life._

That had been three years ago, and Draco still only saw her for a few minutes over the distance of the train platform each September and June. He told no one that those few moments that their eyes had met had led directly to the divorce papers sitting in front of him. Not that she would appreciate that, or remotely reciprocate.

He shoved the papers back into the envelope and called his tawny owl over to his desk. After feeding him a treat and stroking his feathers, Draco attached the envelope to his leg, opened the window, and launched the bird into the night sky.

The deed was done. Tomorrow the world would know—courtesy of the _Daily Prophet_—that his marriage was over. Tongues would wag and rumors fly. The paparazzi would follow him and Astoria for a few weeks before they got bored or another scandal would grab their attention. Thankfully, Scorpius was safe at school and the headmaster had been informed to keep the educational environment as sane as possible.

He turned at the knock on his door and saw his assistant enter with the presentation that Howard the accountant had finalized. He took it from her hand, bid her good evening, and turned back to his desk to review it. With his final signature, he whispered to no one at all, "That takes care of that." He turned out the light and Apparated to his lonely penthouse flat two stories above.


	3. Chapter 3: The Kids Are Alright

**Chapter 3: The Kids Are Alright**

Author's Note: October 9-10, 2020. Hermione and Ron tell the kids. Draco takes Scorpius on a visit to Hogsmeade.

Rose Weasley, Slytherin's star beater and a bit of a tomboy, entered the Great Hall and made her way over to her best friends and House mates Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy.

"Morning, guys! Hey Al, did you finish the Charms essay for this afternoon?" she inquired as she began piling eggs and toast onto her plate.

"Yeah," Albus winced, knowing the next question to come from Rose. "And no, you cannot 'review' it unless you have already finished your own."

Rose stuck out her tongue, while Scorpius laughed quietly. "He's got you there, Rose. You've never fooled us. We know that you use the information gathered from checking our homework to polish your own. Not that I mind. It makes sense…"

"In a Slytherin sort of way," they all said together as Rose rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Be that way," she said, distracted by the flurry of owls swooping into the Great Hall and dropping the morning _Prophet_ and letters from home to the students.

Scorpius ducked as his daily paper landed directly on his plate, splattering food everywhere. "Why does that bloody bird hit my plate every day?" he exclaimed. "I know he's out to get me!"

Albus laughed and handed Scorpius a napkin as Rose fed a bit of bacon to her mother's owl. "Letter from mum," she shouted across the Hall to her younger brother Hugo sitting at the Gryffindor table. With a flick of her wand, she sent his letter flying over to him before opening her own.

"Well, it's out. Nothing to be done about it," Scorpius said as he held the paper up to show his friends the front page. The picture of his father sneered and his mother swooned repeatedly under the headline **MALFOY MARRIAGE FIASCO FINALLY FINISHED**.

The three friends scanned the story together as hoots of laughter erupted throughout the Hall as other students discovered the inflammatory article. Rose looked up and glared around the Hall, daring anyone to make a comment. Several looked uncomfortably away.

"Rose, you don't have to threaten everyone," Scorpius murmured. "I already knew this was coming. My parents have been separated for two years, and my father owled me last week that it would be final shortly."

"It's not like I'm going to physically whack anyone," Rose responded. "At least, not off the pitch. But they should know better than to stoop to verbal pot shots."

"Yeah, half the students' parents are divorced, remarried, living in sin, or gay," Albus chimed in, while Scorpius grimaced. "But still, it's got to suck."

"I'm not sure," Scorpius said, "at least now, we don't have to pretend to be one big happy family out in public. Talk about awkward at the holidays." Looking to change the subject, Scorpius asked Rose about her letter.

Rose looked at the half-forgotten parchment. "Oh, mum and dad are coming to Hogwarts tomorrow morning. Seems they have something to tell Hugo and me."

Albus looked over her shoulder to see if there was any more to the letter; there wasn't. "Cryptic. What do you think they want? Is there anything you could be in trouble for?"

"No idea," Rose responded as another owl made its way through the upper windows and landed next to a surprised Scorpius.

He took the parchment from his father's owl and fed it some toast before opening the letter. "It looks like my father is coming tomorrow, too. He's taking me to Hogsmeade for the day. Probably to make sure I'm okay after today's public announcement."

_Saturday morning_

Scorpius was sitting under a tree and sketching Rose while she played with a low-flying, practice snitch when Hugo joined them the next morning. The weather was clear and crisp for early October, and the siblings wore denim and hand-knit jumpers.

"Why do you two insist on wearing those horrible things?" Scorpius asked, pointing to their jumpers. "Those aren't even your initials. Are they hand-me-downs, really?" The blonde scrunched up his nose as Rose peered down to her "V" and Hugo plucked at his "A" and shrugged.

"It's a Weasley thing," said Hugo, grinning. "You wouldn't understand."

"Gran makes them for all of us every year, even Albus gets one, though he never wears it at school. It's a family joke to keep them around and re-gift them when you outgrow them," Rose smiled at the overdressed blonde. "Why do you insist on wearing grey dress pants on a Saturday?"

"It's a Malfoy thing," said Scorpius, affecting an easy arrogance. "We must always present ourselves well for our adoring public." He winked at Rose and barely dodged the snitch she tossed his direction.

Draco watched the easy interaction of the laughing children from the covered walkway before stepping out into the sunlit courtyard. He smiled as he approached Scorpius from behind and saw the pencil drawing of the young lady in his sketchbook.

"Scorpius," he said to announce his presence as he easily caught the little snitch that flew by his head.

All three teens jumped up and stood at attention, and Draco fought hard not to chuckle.

"Mr. Malfoy, good morning," Rose said, easily recognizing the man and remembering her manners.

"Father, this is Rose and Hugo Weasley," Scorpius introduced the two. "Rose is my year in Slytherin. Hugo is in Gryffindor."

Hugo nervously wiped his hands on the back of his pants. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Ah, Miss Weasley. Mr. Weasley," Draco nodded in acknowledgment. "The pleasure is mutual. I hope that you are not too disappointed to lose Scorpius for the day."

"No, sir," Rose responded. "We're meeting our parents in a few minutes anyway." Her eyes moved from Scorpius's pants to his father's matching ones and back to her friend's eyes, a smirk on her face.

Draco ignored her once-over and nodded again, "Give my regards to your mo…them both." He placed his hand on Scorpius's shoulder. "Shall we then, son?" Scorpius flicked his hand in a silent salute to Rose over his shoulder then turned and left the courtyard with his father.

Crossing the threshold of the front doors of the castle, they encountered Ron and Hermione walking from the Apparition point just outside the school grounds. With her arms folded over her chest and his hands in his pockets, their body language screamed discomfit and alienation to anyone with experience in a strained relationship, Draco included.

Hermione's face softened momentarily when she noticed Draco Malfoy. Now there was passion, she thought before she caught the knowing interest in Draco's eye. Remembering her husband's presence and her mission for the day, she winced and chewed her lower lip.

"Weasley. Granger." Draco acknowledged them in passing.

"Malfoy." Ron and Hermione responded simultaneously. She was strangely pleased that she was still Granger—not Weasley—to him.

And each pair continued to their destinations without a backward glance.

Ron and Hermione turned the corner and entered the courtyard to find Rose and Hugo sitting next to each other but staring in opposite directions. Hermione smiled to herself as she thought that was the perfect way to describe their relationship and personalities. They may look at the world differently and have vastly different interests, but they stuck together.

Hugo turned to their parents first and jumped off the bench to catch his dad around the waist in glee. Hermione hoped that no matter how this conversation went or how difficult it was for her to be cordial with Ron right now that the relationship he had with their children would not suffer. Maybe they really would be alright as a family. One could hope.

Looking around Hermione noticed the courtyard was empty except for them. "Is this a Hogsmeade weekend? Where is everyone?" she asked.

"Right in one, Mum!" exclaimed Hugo, who wasn't old enough to go to Hogsmeade and felt his parents visit would relieve some of the boredom of a day of homework.

"Sorry, Rosie, about stealing the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year from you," said Ron. Rose simply nodded and shrugged.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, neither knowing how to start this conversation, and both dreading it. "Mum, Dad, what's wrong?" Rose looked between them and pulled Hugo down to sit on the bench next to her. "No one's died, have they?" she laughed nervously.

"No. No one's dead," Ron said as he fiddled with the edge of his jacket and swallowed hard. _Although you might wish I were after this_, he thought.

Hermione shook her head and began, "Rose. Hugo. Your father and I love you both very much…"

"Oh gods! You're getting divorced, too!" Hugo wailed. "That's what they all say."

"Hush, Hugo," Rose tapped him a few times on the thigh to get his attention. "Let them finish." She looked anxiously up at her mum.

Ron screwed up his courage and just blurted it out. "See, kids, I… I'm… I'm pants at this, Mione." He began to pace. Hermione stayed silent. This was his bombshell to drop. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes pleading for her strength as they had throughout all the time they had known each other. She took his hand, nodded slowly, and they turned to face their children.

Hermione began, "You know how my friend Cho likes woman and lives with her girlfriend, and how when everyone was shocked to learn that Albus Dumbledore was…"

"I'm gay," Ron blurted out.

"What?" both Rose and Hugo jumped up and exclaimed.

Hermione put her head in her hands. "Real smooth and gentle there, Ron," she muttered to herself. Looking up at the kids she said, "Yes, your father is gay. He…"

"But what about… I mean, you two are married. You had us. You can't be totally gay, can you?" Rose asked as Hugo simultaneously said, "No, you can't be. See, you have kids and you're married and… I'm confused."

Ron looked at his two children and sighed. "I know. It is confusing. And I have been confused myself for a really long time." He knelt down to the kids' eye level. "You see, your mum and I have known each other since our first year at Hogwarts, and we love each other very deeply. But it was always as really good friends, and maybe it should have stayed that way, but we got married and had you, which was the best thing to ever happen in my life. But we don't love each like husbands and wives do, although we thought we did. Part of the reason for that is because I like men that way, not women. And I'm just now admitting that to myself, and to you, because it's not fair to not be honest with the people I love the most in my life." Ron hung his head in shame that he had let his family down and regret that he couldn't be the father and husband they deserved.

"NO!" Hugo cried out, "you're lying, and you hate us, and I hate you!" He leaped off the bench and ran as fast as he could out of the courtyard.

Hermione stopped Ron as he started after him. "Ron, I'll go talk to him," she said as she left him with the child that he had always been closer to, his Rose, to go and comfort their son.

Rose sat unmoving. Her expression pensive and still, while a million thoughts ran through her mind.

"So, do you hate me, too?" Ron asked quietly as he slumped down next to her.

Rose blinked and looked over at her father, "No. I just don't understand, but I will. Will you and mum still be friends even though—I'm guessing—you'll be divorcing?" Her forehead crinkled in concern and her eyes looked sad.

"I hope so, baby girl," Ron said as he put an arm around her and held her close. "I certainly hope so."

The two Malfoy men walked leisurely down the winding road from the school grounds to Hogsmeade. Both lost in thought and silent until they reached the forest.

"How is school this year so far?" Draco inquired.

"OK." Scorpius shrugged.

Draco grimaced and tried again. "Are you still favoring Charms this year?"

"Yeah, I guess," Scorpius replied, kicking a bit of gravel off the road.

Draco remembered back to how unwilling he had been to ever talk about school with his father. But then again, Lucius never really asked about such things, so much as told Draco what he should do.

"Anyone I need to hex since the _Prophet_ was delivered yesterday?" Draco asked with a small, ironic smile.

Scorpius's face mirrored his father's. "No, Rose has that covered."

"That would be Miss Weasley, no? She seems to have inherited her mother's spirit. Is her glare fierce enough to stupefy the entire student body?" Draco asked.

"Pretty much," Scorpius chuckled. "She doesn't take anything from anybody. If she wasn't so sly to keep from getting caught, one would think she was a Gryffindor."

Draco wondered if mentioning the sketch of Rose he had noticed earlier would elicit more information or shut down all communication.

"Yes, I'm sure her being sorted into Slytherin shocked the entire Weasley clan." Draco surmised. "The young lady bears further observation." He looked sideways at his son, whose cheeks had blossomed with a rosy blush. "But it seems you have that covered."

Father and son continued in silence for a few minutes. As the wizarding village came into sight, Scorpius stopped suddenly. "Dad?"

Draco turned around and saw his son standing in the middle of the road, hands in his pockets, forehead creased, and mouth pulled into a thin line.

"How do you know if you're in love?" Scorpius asked, his voice cracking.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "I'd empty out one of the family vaults to learn the answer to that question," he quipped as he placed his arm around the boy's shoulders and pulled him along with him down the road to the Three Broomsticks. He laughed silently as he realized that he had, in fact, done just that, learning the exact opposite through his marriage and divorce with Astoria.

_Saturday early evening_

Scorpius found Rose sitting at the base of the Whomping Willow with her back against the trunk where the swinging branches couldn't reach her. Her eyes were red and she looked like she had been crying earlier. Not that Scorpius would mention anything about it to her.

"Hey, I've been looking for you," he said as he dodged the moving limbs and jumped within the circle of safety at the base of the tree. He did not want to ask because of the telltale signs of her tears, but felt he should. "How did your day with your parents go?"

Rose laughed humorlessly and said, "Well, the _Prophet_ will soon have its next scandal and your family will be off the front page."

Scorpius looked at her quizzically.

"My parents are splitting up, too. It seems my father has finally figured out that he's gay."

Scorpius's mouth formed a silent "O" before he scooted closer to her and threaded his hand in hers. "Wow. Our families are fucked up."

Rose silently agreed as she found comfort in her best friend's presence.


	4. Chapter 4: If You Seek Amy

**Everything Falls Apart**

**Chapter 4: If You Seek Amy**

Author's Note: October 17, 2020 with flashback to August 2001. Ginny takes Hermione out for a belated birthday celebration and hens night out. Hermione remembers a similar night twenty years ago.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," said Hermione. They were all dressed up and going clubbing in Muggle London.

"What?" shrugged Ginny with an evil grin. "You mean getting out of the house, looking damn sexy, and having a good time? Yes, that is truly unforgivable." The red-haired witch laughed as she eyed her sister-in-law and good friend. "By the way, I'd wager 5 galleons that some hot stud will be chatting you up in no time with you wearing that little bit of slink," she teased, motioning to Hermione's tight black dress.

Hermione just rolled her eyes as they threaded their way through the crowded dance club to the bar. She got the bartender's attention just as Ginny admonished her with a laugh and a knowing look, "Don't order wine, 'Mione! We want real drinks tonight!"

"Fine." Hermione turned back to the patient bartender and ordered brightly colored, highly alcoholic beverages with embarrassingly sexual names. She tried to pay for them, but the bartender shook his head and gestured to two gorgeous, college-aged men who winked hopefully. She smiled, mouthed "thank you," but shook her head with mock sadness.

Ginny came up behind Hermione, took a drink out of her hand, and yelled to be heard over the pounding music, "Cougar!"

Hermione laughed, and they proceeded to get tipsy enough to risk the dance floor.

"Do you remember that place we went for my twentieth birthday? The club with the stripper poles?" Ginny asked, giggling.

Hermione closed her eyes in embarrassment and moaned. "Oh gods! I'd rather not. I still can't believe that you talked me into that!"

_The flashing lights, throbbing music, swaying bodies, and flowing drinks were a heady mix that acted stronger on her than any Euphoria Elixir or Befuddlement Draught that Hermione had ever experienced. Ginny's hair was flying around her head as she gyrated wildly to the synthesizers and driving percussion blaring through the sound system. Hermione was hard pressed to keep up with her younger friend, but she was giving it a go._

_So, when Ginny grabbed her hand to haul her up to one of the platforms with a shiny silver pole, she willingly followed. Only for a moment was she shocked when Ginny gripped the pole, flung a leg around it, and began undulating as if having sex with it. The youngest Weasley shouted her encouragement, "Granger, you grab this pole right now and dance with me!" The two writhing women soon had an appreciative audience, and in her inebriated state, Hermione found she enjoyed performing for the anonymous crowd._

_Soon thirst and a need to use the loo called, and Hermione tapped Ginny and signaled her intent over the heavy rhythms. Ginny nodded but seemed to have no desire to leave the dance floor or the handsome young man who was grinding his hips into her backside._

_After waiting forever in the queue for the ladies and then forcibly pushing her way out of the loo and through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, Hermione leaned against the bar and ordered a drink. Bodies jostled her as people moved up and down the bar, but it was the firm press of male groin to her backside and moist breath at the nape of her neck that startled her._

"_Quite an inspiring performance, Granger," a cultured voice tickled her ear. "I didn't know Gryffindors knew such filthy moves."_

_The alcohol in her blood lending her a certain courage, Hermione turned around and smirked. "Slumming it are we, Malfoy?" Her eyes flickered down as she felt the effects of their close quarters. "I mean, isn't against your code to brush up against the Muggle plebes?"_

_Draco laughed. "That would assume I have a code." He shook his hair out of his eyes and snaked a hand along her side. "Let's just say that over the last three years I've come to a greater appreciation of the opportunities beyond the wizarding world." He stepped even closer to her._

_Hermione momentarily lost her balance and swayed slightly before placing her hand on Draco's shoulder to steady herself. When he smirked, she swallowed nervously and started when he reached around her. "Jumpy?" Draco said. "Your drink has arrived." He took the cool glass from the bar, took a sip from it, and offered it to her._

"_Does it meet with your approval?" Hermione asked saucily before taking a drink of the tangy cocktail._

"_I just didn't want you to think I had poisoned it behind your back," he responded. Draco leaned in to whisper directly in her ear, his lips brushing the delicate shell. "When you've finished with that, you're going to dance with me." He retreated to meet her eyes. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer, Granger."_

_Hearing her last name on my lips sent a small shiver down her spine. She knocked back her drink in two gulps. "You're on," she challenged as she grabbed his hand and led him to the middle of the dance floor._

_Hermione was able to keep a few inches between them on the dance floor. But when the music switched to a deep, rolling percussion, the crowd tightened around them, forcing Hermione into Draco's arms. His knee pressed between her legs. He grabbed her waist and dragged her closer, her breasts tight to his chest. She took hold of his upper arms, rolled her hips, and rode his thigh in time to the bass rhythm._

_Dancing led to kissing and rubbing and grinding on the dance floor, which led to a hurried exit to a side alley with more groping and heated snogging._

_Breathless, Hermione pulled away. "No! I'm not doing this," she said. Draco stopped and glared at her. "No," she said shakily. "I mean I'm not doing this here in a nasty alley."_

"_Oh. Good." Draco closed the distance between them again and Apparated them both back to his flat._

_Hermione didn't notice the well-appointed furnishings or the expensive electronics lining the walls. All she cared about was privacy and the fact that his flat didn't stink of garbage and urine._

_Their legs tangled as their mouths roamed over faces, necks, and chests. Fingers roughly grabbed over and under clothes as Draco and Hermione fell to the floor, where they continued to push, pull, and grind against each other. His shirt and pants were hastily unbuttoned and pushed aside. Her skirt was clumsily pushed up to her waist. Her knickers were quickly pulled off as Draco dragged his mouth all the way down her body to devour her until she was shaking and screaming his name. He shifted to his knees and lifted her hips to position himself at her entrance._

_They both moaned as he pressed into her. Hermione grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him deeply. Her open mouth tasted his cheeks, nose, chin, and brow as he began to pump into her forcibly. She met him thrust for thrust until she was quivering uncontrollably yet again. Their combined voices filled the darkened room as they strove higher and higher toward fulfillment. She clamped down on him as she struggled against her orgasm, sending him over the edge._

_They clung to each other. She couldn't help but stare into his wide-open eyes as their breathing returned to normal. As he slowly released her, "Wow," was all she could whisper._

"_Yeah," Draco murmured, as he stood and pulled her to her feet with him. He looked uncomfortable and said something about needing to use the loo._

_Alone in a darkened room overlooking the city of London, Hermione removed her wand from her thigh holster and with a quick "Tergeo," she cleaned the semen from her body, then pulled her dress back down to cover herself. Realizing that she had left Ginny back at the club and that she would have no idea what to say once Draco returned from the bathroom, Hermione quickly Apparated back to the alley beside the club and entered to get Ginny and go home._

Thinking back on it now, she admitted that those thirty minutes with Draco had been the hottest sex of her life. As she sipped her drink, she wondered what would have happened if she had not left in embarrassment and fear. Putting it out of her mind, Hermione allowed Ginny to drag her onto the dance floor and into the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5: Happy Christmas

**Chapter 5: Happy Christmas, I think I hate you.**

A/N: December 25, 2020. Hermione makes it through her first Weasley Christmas after the separation.

Her head was pounding.

Christmas at the Burrow had been an endurance test, which was—thankfully—over. She had done her duty to the family who had embraced her and grounded her in the wizarding world. She had played nice with Ron mostly by avoiding him, which was not too difficult with nine Weasleys, seven spouses, a dozen children of various ages, and a few "orphans" with nowhere else to go. In the past several years, Arthur had added a tented pavilion, charmed to stay warm and cozy, in the garden to fit everyone at the same table for Christmas dinner. No, not difficult at all to avoid any awkward conversation—with her husband, at least. Only at the very end had he finally gotten on her last nerve.

She hadn't been so lucky with the other Weasleys. Everyone had to show their support in some tangible way, which had led to some uncomfortable exchanges.

_The second Hermione Floo'd through the hearth with Rose, Hugo, and all the holiday presents, George practically tackled her in a hug. "Who knew it would be Ron?" he whispered in her ear. "We always thought Percy would be the one coming out of the broom closet. Now I owe Bill five galleons." _

_Used to seeing through George's jokes to the love underneath, Hermione rolled her eyes and swatted playfully at him before she was shuttled into the kitchen by Molly. Allowing anyone to help with meal preparation was Molly's unspoken sign that she considered you a trusted member of the family. Each Weasley spouse, including Harry, had a story of their first time allowed to cook at the Burrow. Molly's recruitment of Hermione for kitchen duty signaled to everyone in attendance that Hermione's status as family in Molly's heart was unchanged._

"_I'm just finishing up raspberry scones for breakfast," Molly said as she ushered Hermione into a seat at the kitchen table. "Tea?" Molly flicked her wand at the kettle to pour a steaming cup, which then levitated over to the younger woman._

"_Raspberry's my favorite, Molly," Hermione smiled and placed a gentle touch on her mother-in-law's arm. "Thank you."_

_Ron stumbled into the kitchen. "Mum, is it ready yet? They're like a pack of wild dogs —," Ron stopped as he noticed Hermione. "—out there. Happy Christmas, 'Mione," he finished uneasily._

"_Happy Christmas, Ron," Hermione smiled tightly and retreated behind her cup of tea._

_Molly shoved a tray heavily laden with scones of various flavors at her youngest son. "Here, take those into the other room and make sure everyone gets one. Don't let Teddy have more than one until everyone gets one," Molly pushed Ron through the door where he was met with a loud hurrah from the hungry family._

_Molly threw her hands in the air and shook her head as she checked the turkey in the oven and set the charmed scrub bushes to work on the first round of dirty dishes._

_Hermione finished her scone, refilled her tea cup, and pulled over a large bowl of potatoes. "I prefer to peel them by hand, Molly, unless you have other things you need me to do," she said. "It keeps my hands busy."_

"_No worries, love," Molly responded as she bustled around the kitchen. "If we need more hands and wands, I've plenty of daughters now to help." _

_Hermione couldn't help but needle the older witch. "Yes, but really, Molly, you would think some of your talent in the kitchen would have rubbed off on your sons as well," she teased gently._

"_You would think so," Molly laughed, "but the food explosions over the years have proven that false. Now I don't trust them to handle making tea half the time."_

_Hermione laughed with her, "Of course, that could be the whole point!"_

_The two women spent the rest of the morning catching up and preparing the meal as other family members wandered in and out of the kitchen to help. At times the conversation became awkward as one or the other would accidentally touch on a sore subject around the break-up, the past, and the future. And even though Hermione often found extended periods of time at the Burrow to be tiring, the extra effort Molly took to provide moral support touched her deeply. _

_For dinner, the Weasley clan gathered around one long table under the heated pavilion in the garden. The table creaked under the weight of two turkeys, a ham, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, flaming puddings, mountains of dinner rolls, several platters of roasted vegetables, and many bottles of elderberry wine. _

_After plates were filled and the noise died down as people stuffed food into their faces, a high-pitched, tinkling sound caught everyone's attention. Hermione turned her head toward the source of the interruption and saw Teddy Lupin standing with his glass in one hand and his fork in the other. The young man swallowed nervously and looked down at his girlfriend, Victoire, Bill and Fleur's eldest child who was now twenty-one years old. The beautiful young woman smiled up at him and nodded slightly. Hermione had a feeling she was going to be ill._

"_Well, usually Arthur makes the Christmas toast, but I asked if I could this year," Teddy cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. Hermione noticed George winking and elbowing Harry out of the corner of her eye. "I believe everyone here knows my story. The Burrow has been my home and the Weasleys have been my family, even before I was born. They brought my parents into their hearts and their home. In fact, I believe it was Molly who opened my father's eyes to the benefits of accepting my mother's love." Teddy paused as everyone laughed. "Anyway, long toast short—" _

"_Too late!" several Weasleys interrupted. Someone threw a dinner roll across the table that missed the young man._

"_As I was saying, since we are among family, Victoire and I felt that our families should be the first to know. I have asked for her hand in marriage, and she has accepted me."_

"_Brilliant!" cried James, Albus, and Hugo._

"_Congratulations, man!" George stood and began _very seriously_ shaking everyone's hand as if he were running for mayor._

"_Oh, Teddy and Victoire, I am so happy for you two," Molly began to weep into her Christmas pudding._

_Everyone at the table erupted with joy—everyone except Hermione. Yes, she was happy for the couple and wished them well. But she couldn't help the gnawing jealousy in the pit of her stomach. She remembered feeling, when she and Ron announced their engagement, just as in love with a bright future ahead of her. She quickly took a swig from her wine glass and pasted on the smile she used for meddling old ladies and Ministry functionaries._

_Later, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Ron were sprawled around the living room, too stuffed from dinner to move much, while a herd of Weasley children from the ages of two to sixteen ran through the garden and house in an impromptu game of "catch the gnome." _

"_How many rules does 'catch the gnome' have now," Hermione asked Ginny as the red-haired witch sat down next to her and handed her another glass of wine. _

_Ginny laughed and made a show of considering the question. "I believe 432, which is 15 fewer than when we played as children. Some of the rules were specific for when Fred and George played." Ginny grew wistful for a moment, then continued, "although they are brought back when George deigns to play now." _

_Hermione laid her head back on the sofa, closed her eyes, and tried to relax into the post-dinner stupor. Ginny whispered in her ear, "I heard at work the other day that Rita Skeeter is retiring effective January 1." Hermione sat upright in surprise. _

"_Wha—?" Hermione gasped. _

"_Happy Christmas! We're not supposed to talk about it yet, but I thought you would want to know." Ginny leaned back and grinned from ear to ear, satisfied that her position at the paper had allowed her to gift her friend with good news._

_Harry perked up. "So that means when the divorce becomes public, it won't be quite so bad—" Harry stopped as his brain caught up to his mouth. "That came out so much more insensitive than it sounded in my head. Sorry, 'Mione." He turned to face his best mate, "Sorry, Ron."_

"_No, you're right." Ron sat up and leaned forward to join the group. "It's going to come out sooner or later anyway." He smiled crookedly at Hermione. "We may as well get it all out in the open on our own terms."_

_Hermione nodded silently and gazed at the wall over Ron's shoulder for a moment. She collected her thoughts and shook her head. "I just wish they didn't care about our private lives so much. Really," Hermione huffed, "it's ridiculous." She turned to Ginny. "Who is taking Rita's place? Do you think they'll be less incendiary?"_

_Ron snorted. "Anyone has got to be better than the bint who plastered Malfoy's bloody failure on the front page for the world to see. Although perhaps it actually helped his reputation."_

"_Ronald!" Hermione's jaw dropped. "That's just—urgh!" She jumped off the sofa and quickly walked out of the room._

"_What?" Ron asked quizzically, looking from Harry to Ginny._

_Ginny looked at her brother, dumbfounded. "Hello? Have you ever heard of the pot and the kettle?" She stood and followed Hermione from the room._

_Harry just shook his head in disbelief. For someone so intuitive when it came to strategy in chess and catching dark wizards, Ron really was clueless about some of the things that came out of his mouth._

_Ginny caught up with Hermione in the cloakroom. "It's really impossible to find anything in all this," Hermione huffed. "I mean, how can we all wear exactly the same black cloak!"_

_Ginny pulled out her wand and with a flick separated Hermione's from the others. "Oh, I don't know, maybe you could use magic," she said with a smile and an eye roll. "Don't let Ron get to you, 'Mione. You know, just because he's figured out he's gay, doesn't mean he'll go all sensitive."_

_Hermione chuckled and cradled her head in her hand. "I know. It's just all been a bit much today. First time with the family, or with Ron for that matter, since the split." Hermione sighed and gave Ginny a hug. "I just need to say 'good night' to Rose and Hugo and then head home for some quiet time in the bath."_

Now standing in her darkened living room, Hermione poured herself another glass of wine.

One glass to settle her frayed nerves.

One glass to ease the smiling mask from her face.

One glass to assuage her guilt and numb her sorrow.

This one to—hopefully—pull her into blissful sleep.

As Hermione drained the glass, her eye rested on their wedding portrait on the mantle. She and Ron looked so happy, so hopeful, so… in love. "Big, fucking LIAR!" she screamed as she threw the glass at the picture. Red splattered the wall and glass shattered, but the ornate silver frame with the happy couple remained intact.

A primal scream clawed its way up Hermione's throat as she turned, looking for something, anything to throw against the wall. Her hand grasped the glittering blown-glass paperweight that Ron had given her for her birthday one year and smashed it against a crystal vase that her parents had gifted them for their first Christmas. She upended the small coffee table, spilling papers and a few heavy books onto the floor. A row of porcelain figurines of historical wizards and witches met their end spectacularly, one by one, hitting the wall opposite their usual home on the shelf.

Hermione screeched and shrieked her anger and despair in a wordless stream as she grabbed anything she could easily pick up and throw with all her might. Finally her hands found nothing else to grasp, so she pulled out her wand and pointed it directly at the offending wedding portrait, which was still miraculously in one piece.

Panting heavily, Hermione took aim and let her curse fly. "REDUCTO!"

" Hermione, down!" Harry quickly ducked and rolled from the fireplace. A shower of iridescent glitter floated through the air. Harry came up to a crouch with his wand ready. He quickly took in the situation and realized they were alone. "Shit, Hermione! What the hell are you doing? You could put someone's eye out with that thing."

Hermione dropped her wand and crumpled to the floor. Her shrieking became great wracking sobs. Harry rushed over and enveloped her in his arms. He stroked her hair and made comforting, shushing sounds as he rocked her gently back and forth.

Eventually, her sobbing turned into uneven breathing, and she slowly but resolutely disengaged from his arms and wiped her eyes. She looked up and around the room at the destruction she had caused. There it stood mocking her in its wholeness – the wedding portrait still untouched. Hermione laughed bitterly. At Harry's questioning gaze, she pointed at the mantle. Harry saw the pristine frame surrounded by chaos and chuckled too.

"I think I hit the mirror. My aim is terrible," Hermione whispered, her throat raw from screaming. "How did you know to come out wands blazing?" She smiled wanly.

Harry stood and helped her to her feet. "Ron and I put warning charms on the house when you first moved in—in case of attack. It goes off when furniture and things are violently thrown about."

"Oh," she said. "I never knew. Sorry about this." Hermione loosely gestured around the damage of the room.

Harry smiled and hugged her. "Let me just tell Ginny everything's OK first. Then it's hot chocolate and bed for you." He caught a whiff of the wine she had imbibed. "And perhaps a hang-over potion as well."

Hermione yawned, feeling completely drained physically and emotionally. "Yes, that would be good." She surveyed her handiwork. While she didn't look forward to cleaning up the mess, her heart felt lighter than it had in years.


	6. Chapter 6: Never Just Coffee

**Chapter 6: It's Never Just Coffee**

A/N: The kids go back to school; Draco asks Hermione out for coffee. _Platform 9 3/4, Sunday, January 3, 2021, with a flashback to __Paris, October 2007_

Usually Scorpius kept his distance from Rose and Albus on platform 9-3/4. He knew there was history between his father and Rose's family, and he did not want to do anything that could cause a scene or make his friends uncomfortable. But he was worried about Rose. The holidays had been the first time her parents and the family had all been together since the split. The letter she had owled him just after Christmas had sounded tense.

Left alone on the platform for a few minutes, Scorpius took a deep breath and walked over toward the large, boisterous family. Rose was bent over her trunk with her mother. They were fussing with each other about something that Rose could not find and thought she had forgot back home.

"Don't worry about it, dear," her mother said with a barely concealed sigh. "If it's not here, I'll owl it to you when I get home."

"But Mum, you don't understand," Rose stomped her foot and was about to continue her rant when Scorpius cleared his throat.

"Hey, Rose," he said quietly, blushing when she turned around quickly and smiled brightly at him.

"Scorpius!" Rose flung herself at her friend and gave him the big hug he usually received on the train away from all eyes except Albus's.

Scorpius froze for just a moment in surprise, relaxed into Rose's embrace, and then froze again when he realized everything had gone silent. He opened his eyes and met Rose's as they both realized that every single member of the combined Weasley-Potter clan was staring at them. Both teens took a quick step away from each other and proceeded to look everywhere but at each other.

Hermione smiled to herself as she watched the two awkward teens. "Rose, would you introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, yeah, Mum, this is Scorpius," Rose unconsciously touched her friend's hand. "Scorpius, this is my mum."

Scorpius called upon all the manners and grace that had been drilled into him as a Malfoy. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley. Rose has told me wonderful things about you... and her family."

"Has she now?" Hermione arched her eyebrows and smirked in a way that, Scorpius mused, mirrored his father's patented expression. "Harry, what are you looking for?" Hermione asked the man whose head was swiveling right and left as he scanned the crowd, probably for Malfoy, if she knew her best friend.

"Nothing," Harry murmured to himself. "Nothing, just..." He looked over at the young man who looked much like his father at the same age. Harry shook his head in self-deprecation and smiled at Scorpius, Rose, and Albus before turning back to help Ron and Ginny account for all the luggage and children under their care for the next few minutes.

Hermione switched her attention back to the teens who were already comparing notes about the holidays and their schedules for the new term. Rose looked over her mother's shoulder and smiled. "Morning, Mr. Malfoy," she said brightly and waved. Hermione took a deep breath before turning to greet the man approaching from behind.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Draco said smoothly. He took her hand and bowed slightly over it. Rose blushed and turned to see Scorpius roll his eyes. By this time, Draco's presence had caught the attention of Harry and Ron, who moved to flank Hermione protectively.

"Potter. Weasley." Draco coolly inclined his head to each of them in turn. "Granger," he said with a knowing smile and a twitch of his eyebrow. Hermione may have blushed, but her voice was steady. "Malfoy."

The shrill whistle interrupted any further conversation, as all the students hurried to board the train. Once Scorpius was on board, Draco nodded to Hermione as he turned to leave the platform. The Weasleys and Potters waited until the train pulled out from the station before dispersing.

"Ron's coming over to our house for dinner," Ginny told Hermione quietly as the men walked toward the exit. "Are you alright by yourself, or do you want to join us?"

Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron - both men trying, unsuccessfully, to look like they were not interested in the women's conversation. She was not sure she could take a whole day of Ron in such close company yet. Maybe some day they could just be friends again, but not just now.

"No, I'm good, Ginny," she said. "I have to prepare for work tomorrow. You know, it's budget time at the Ministry." She waved to her friends and soon-to-be-ex-husband before they Apparated away.

Hermione was walking through the station to her car when she heard her name called from behind and turned to see Draco approach.

"Granger."

"Malfoy," she said warily.

"Come," he nodded toward the exit. "Have coffee with me."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so, no. I have to go. My car is probably illegally parked, and..." She knew she was babbling, and so did he, judging by the look on his face.

They both stood facing each other just beyond touching distance. Neither made a move to actually leave.

Draco sighed. "You're thinking about Paris, aren't you?"

Hermione grimaced and looked at the sidewalk, the wall, the ceiling, her shoes, his shoes, the exit sign, anywhere but Draco's eyes. "Really, I... I have to go now..."

Draco took a step forward, touched her lightly on the elbow, arched an eyebrow, and gave her _that_ look.

Hermione took a step back, her eyes challenging him. "OK," she huffed. "You were a right arse in Paris."

"Yes, I was," he stated as a matter of fact.

"So," Hermione stated in her best lecture tone, "I am not going to have coffee with you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's just coffee, Granger. And it's been over ten years."

_Draco had always loved Paris in the autumn. Actually, Draco always loved Paris, period. Especially magical Paris, where he could walk down the street without bumping into anyone he knew. He could just meander through the shops and people-watch while enjoying a sinful chocolate croissant._

_He had just gotten out of a brutal business merger negotiation. Getting some fresh air should clear his head. As he walked down the quiet side street, Draco rolled his neck and shoulders in the hopes of relaxing a bit. He turned the corner and that's when he saw her - back straight and hair bushy as always._

_Hermione sat at a little table outside a cafe and looked engrossed in her notes. "Granger?" he whispered quietly in her ear. She jumped and spilled several papers on the sidewalk. Draco knelt down to gather the pages, bringing his eyes in line with her bulging, pregnant belly. He stared at the roundness covered in smart business robes for a few heartbeats before raising his eyes to meet hers. _

_Her breath hitched as their eyes met and a flicker of warmth shown in her smile. Fuck! but she was beautiful. And definitely happy with the Weasel. All physical signs pointed to just how happy. Instantly, irrationally, he was angry. How dare she use him, leave him without so much as a farewell, and then flaunt her big, fat marital bliss in front of him?_

"_Draco?" Hermione just sat there with a puzzled look on her face. Her eyes scanned his face looking for any acknowledgement of the last time they had seen each other. The hottest thirty minutes of her life..._

_He stood and his face closed down any expression except arrogant indifference. He searched his mind for something to mock her over. Anything to save face. Draco's eyes lit on her belly again and he sneered. "I see that you are doing your part to repopulate the wizarding world. How many does this make now? Let's see, we haven't seen each other in six years. So if you started immediately after that, you could realistically be on number five. Unless you're having twins. I hear that runs in the family." _

"_Not that you care, or that it is any of your business," Hermione straightened her spine and lifted her chin, "but this will be our second." _

_Draco sat uninvited and leaned over the table on his elbow. "Tell me. Is the reproductive process with the Weasel as hot as stripper dancing in Muggle dance clubs, or does he have to get it up while you drone on about..." he scanned the page in hand. "The territorial rights of nomadic magical creatures vs. the political borders of Muggle nation states?" Draco drawled. "Really, Granger?"_

"_Malfoy! What do you care," Hermione cried. "Just give me my notes back, insult me, and be done with it."_

_Draco dropped the pages onto the table and shrugged. "I was under the impression I had already accomplished that." He turned walked back up the street. As he turned the corner, he saw Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She had placed her head in her hands and was crying. Somehow, "saving face" did not seem so important anymore. He was such a cad._

"So, no apology for being arse? No explanation?" Hermione asked.

Draco shook his head slightly. "No." He hesitated. "Not now anyway." _What could he really tell her anyway without admitting to being unjustifiably jealous?_

"Typical," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"So," Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Coffee? I promise to behave this time."

Hermione reached up to massage her temples. She told herself that she was definitely certifiable if she thought coffee with Malfoy would be better than sitting at home alone. "Sure. Why ever not?"


	7. Chapter 7: Coffee Talk

**Chapter 7: Coffee Talk**

A/N: Hermione and Draco have coffee

_Sunday, January 3, 2021_

Hermione felt Draco's hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the door to the coffeehouse just outside of King's Cross Station. A thrill ran up her spine, which she quashed quickly in her embarrassment. She definitely did not need to be thinking about Draco this way. Not him. Not now. There was already too much going on in her life right now. She fleetingly wondered why she had even agreed to have coffee with him.

They ordered and selected a table next to the window overlooking the street. Crowds of Muggles sped by on foot and in their cars; shoppers, commuters, just everyday people doing everyday things in their everyday lives.

Sitting and having a conversation with Draco Malfoy in a Muggle coffee shop was anything but "everyday." Hermione's hands tightened around her steaming mug as she realized that she would actually have to have a conversation with him.

Draco noticed the slight movement of her hands and smirked a bit at her nervousness. _Just like a Gryffindor to accept the invitation without thinking it all the way through._

"Nervous?" he asked.

Hermione started. "No. Should I be?" She laughed…nervously.

Draco responded with a raised eyebrow. "If you say so."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each casting about to find a safe, but not inane, topic of conversation. There were so many avenues that were definitely not safe—the past, the war, politics, relationships, family matters.

Draco cleared his throat. "Scorpius tells me that Rose is quite the beater on the Slytherin team. 'Wicked scary on a broom' I believe he said."

Hermione smiled. "She gets her acumen on the broom from her father, but her scariness from me."

"I can see that," he teased. Encouraged by her scoffing laugh, he leaned forward and asked, "But Slytherin? Really? Must have been shockingly heartbreaking."

Matching his tone, Hermione responded with a quirk of her lips. "While the Weasley family was quite flummoxed, I was not completely surprised. As her mother, I have been on the receiving end of her cunning wiles. Although, it was Harry's son Albus who threw most of the family for a loop."

"Yes, Scorpius believes that Albus _chose_ to be sorted into Slytherin because of their quick friendship on the train." Draco scoffed outright.

"I don't know why you sound so surprised." Hermione pursed her lips and took a sip from her mug. "The Sorting Hat does take into account the student's preference. That's why Harry ended up in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "I feel that I should be insulted, but I am merely intrigued. Potter, a Slytherin? It does put the years of rule breaking and getting away with it into perspective." He winked to take the sting out of his words.

They both chuckled and then slipped into silence again before the conversation could take them into the uncomfortable area of their shared Hogwarts experiences.

Hermione figured it was her turn to jumpstart the conversation. "So, how is the world of high finance?"

Draco looked at her incredulously and rolled his eyes. "Granger, please. We both know you don't care about the intricacies of wizard finance. I barely care, and I live and breathe it." At her indignant huff, he continued, "What I want to know is what does Hermione Granger-Weasley, crusader for the oppressed, righter of all wrongs in the Wizarding world, have up her sleeve for the next Wizengamot session?"

Instantly suspicious, Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to know, Malfoy?"

Draco lifted his hands in surrender. "Nothing nefarious, I assure you. Let's just say that I follow your work closely. Where the Lioness goes, the Wizarding world seems to follow."

"Laying it on thick, aren't you, Malfoy? I mean, I have had my share of legislative failures. Believe me, the glow of the Golden Trio dimmed quickly in the minds and hearts of the Ministry. I do try to make things right for all magical beings. There's so much beauty in our world and in our magic. It's unjust to keep that locked away in the hands of so few, when everyone with magic in them—even Purebloods—could benefit from an equitable, free, and creative society."

Draco grinned at her passion. "I've always loved your fire, Granger. But you do wield more influence than perhaps you know. Maybe not always with the hallowed Wizengamot, but with the average witch and wizard, and definitely with more progressive researchers and financiers."

Hermione's mind began making connections between her work and articles in the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ over the last few years. Technologies that combined Wizard magic with Muggle science had advanced quickly over the last ten years. Modern residences catering to those who had grown up with familiarity in both worlds had been built in London neighborhoods adjacent to Diagon Alley, St. Mungo's, and the Ministry offices. Both had been made possible by new laws written and sponsored by Hermione earlier in her career, and both were heavily financed in their early stages by private, Wizard sources. In other words, Malfoy Enterprises.

"I guess it shouldn't surprise me that you follow political developments at the Ministry to give you an investment edge…" she mused aloud.

"No," Draco cut her off. "Not just any political developments. But those with _your_ hand in them."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "And how's that working for you?"

"Actually, pretty well," Draco smirked. "Malfoy Enterprises has diversified to withstand economic fluctuations in both worlds, and our portfolio has tripled in the last decade. Any cause you set your mind to support politically is business gold to me. So, that is how it's working for me – lucky in business, but not in love."

"That makes neither of us." Hermione muttered. In response to the question in Draco's eyes, she quietly said, "Ron and I are separating. I guess luck lies in the difference between following your passion and doing what is expected of you."

"That makes both of us."

Silence again descended as both were lost in their own thoughts. Hermione's mind led her back through her adult life and the choices she had made as a young woman. Rarely had she done anything outside her own high expectations for herself. Just that one night. Draco's thoughts had led him back to the same memory.

"Is that why you left?" he asked.

Hermione knew exactly what he meant, but did not want to answer. Life was too raw. "Isn't that heavy conversation for coffee?"

Draco shrugged. "Then have dinner with me, Granger."

Hermione shook her head slightly. "You know, you could call me Hermione."

With a sly grin, he responded, "Why would I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it's friendly?"

He leaned closer to her and caught her eye. "Nah, that's not why I would do it."

Hermione flushed and looked down at her hand in his. She couldn't remember when he had taken her hand, or when he had started caressing her knuckles with tender, little circles. Gently, she removed her hand and placed it around her mug. "I can't have dinner with you, Draco. It's too soon for me to go out on a date. I'm not even divorced yet."

Leaning back in his chair, Draco looked her directly in the eye for a moment before he conceded. "Alright, Granger. But you will say 'yes' sooner than you think."


	8. Chapter 8: Roadblock Ahead

Everything Falls Apart  
Chapter 8: Roadblock Ahead (Unbeta'd)

A/N: Hermione gets an ultimatum at work and an invitation to dinner.

_Monday, January 4, 2021_

"Oh, this can't be good." Hermione had barely sat down at her desk when a charmed red-paper airplane dropped on her desk.

Hermione's eyes widened as she read over the "urgent" office memo quickly. The second reading prompted her to rub her temples. The third brought her to tears as she sat at her desk with her head in her hands.

"Mother f—," the angry words died on her lips and she began to shake. "Not now. Not this, too," she whispered to herself. Trying to get a grip on her emotions, she flicked her wand to slam shut her office door. She could cry in private, but she would be damned before she let any of her colleagues or other Ministry officials see her in any weakened state.

After a few minutes of caustic whinging (_Why is this fucking happening to me? Sodding pureblood twats!) _alternating with self-tending affirmations (_You can get through this. You are a smart, strong, savvy witch_.) to get herself back on track, Hermione calmed her breathing (_Breathe. Just breathe and relax. Just fucking breathe_!) and charmed her swollen eyes and blotchy skin away. She gathered her files together, stood, and straightened her clothes. At the door, she straightened her shoulders, opened the door, and walked gracefully down the hall to her supervisor's office.

Harrold Banks, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was a portly man with hangdog eyes, a mouth like a codfish, and a part that had moved closer to his left ear over the last few years as he tried to hide his growing bald spot. He looked up and gestured for Hermione to come in and sit opposite him in one of two straight-back, highly uncomfortable "guest" chairs.

Spying the bright red paper topping the stack she held close to her chest, Mr. Banks held his hand up to stop Hermione from even starting to argue her case. "Mrs. Weasley, I'm not going to spar with you today. The directive came from the Minister's office attached to the annual budget projections and priority initiatives. We are in the middle of a recession and every department has to cut its budget by 3% across the board. The Minister wants to make sure that her priorities are staffed and funded and, most importantly, reviewed by the Wizengamot. Muggle parents of witches and wizards are not as high on her list as is balancing the budget and funding law enforcement and education. I am sorry, but I have my orders."

There was a time that Hermione would have felt sympathy for her supervisor. He looked tired, and she knew she was only the first of his large staff to have a similar conversation today. But this was her life's work, and it was being ripped from her just in the last stretch. Everything was falling apart around her-her marriage, her family, her work. What was next? No, she could not be defeatist at this moment. She had to plough through like she always did.

"Mr. Banks, I truly understand, but my staff has already been halved in the past year-down to just me and my assistant, and we did not take a salary raise for the last two years. This deadline to present a full docket of legislation regarding Muggle parents for vote-not consideration, but full and final vote-by the end of February is impossible. I know it. You know it, and the Minister knows it. This directive effectively kills the last five years effort to bring full rights to integrate Muggle parents into the lives of their magical offspring."

Mr. Banks sighed and slowly shook his head. "I know. I have argued for all of our current projects with the Minister. My hands are tied overall, but I believe that anything reasonable that you submit to the Wizangamot in the time frame would be passed. Look for the incremental step now that will lead to full acceptance in the future."

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand. Baby steps are both obtainable and passable given the time allotted. But not optimal." She stood and walked toward the door. Turning back, she said, "Thank you, Harrold," before exiting and closing the door behind her.

It was not until she got back her desk before she realized that she had not even thought about what would happen to her position as of March 1. Shite, she would have to look for another job for the first time in 18 years.

_2007, Grimmauld Place_

_The wine and the laughter flowed as friends and extended family gathered to congratulate Harry Potter, who at the age of 27 had just become the youngest Head Auror ever. A pregnant Hermoine had put down Rose, James, and Albus for the night in one of the upstairs guest bedrooms and was about to return to the party below when she heard whispered voices drift down the hall from Harry's study. She stopped for a moment before shaking her head and reminded herself that whatever the conversation, it really was none of her business._

"_Hermione!" Ron squeaked from the study's threshold as her foot landed on the first step. She looked up to see her husband and Seamus walking down the hallway toward her. "We didn't hear you up here. Did we, Seamus?"_

_Seamus shook his head and swallowed nervously. Hermione smiled and told them she was just putting the children to bed and was going back downstairs. "You talking about anything important anyway, or just the latest Quidditch statistics?"_

"_Quidditch is important, dear," Ron said, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her down the steps with Seamus a few feet behind them._

_Hermione laughed and they joined the others as the party guests began chanting "speech, speech"at Harry. The boy-who-lived-and-died-only-to-come-back looked up at the three and smiled brightly, raising his glass to his friends._

_Harry cleared his throat and began, "Dear friends, thank you all so much for your support and unsolicited advice to my future tenure as Head Auror. I'll make sure to make note of who you all want arrested tomorrow . . . that is if I can remember anything about tonight in the morning. But seriously, it amazes me everything that has happened in the last ten years and I'm excited to see what happens in the next ten. If someone like me can become Head Auror, I shutter to think what all of us together can achieve to make our world better. If anyone can do, it's us. So, here's to all of us and the future!" Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, raised his glass even higher and mouthed "I love you two. Thank you."_

Hermione was heating some left-overs for dinner when she heard the tapping of an owl at her window. The graceful tawny bird landed on the kitchen table and politely lifted its leg to give her better access to the letter it carried. Hermione gave the owl a couple of treats when it butted against her hand.

"Such a nice owl," Hermione murmured, stroking its feathers, "Who taught you not to bite, hmm? Ah, yes, you would be Malfoy's," she said flipping open wax seal holding the parchment closed.

_Granger,_

_It is technically later than the last time I asked, and this is not technically a date, so I am hoping this is not "too soon." I find myself in need of a dinner partner this upcoming Saturday. A potential investment opportunity presents itself—a young chef is looking to open a new restaurant venture and wants me to back him financially. I have a meeting with him on Monday, but I would like to taste the wares before I buy. So you see, this is not a date. I need a second opinion and I find that I trust yours implicitly. If you agree to accompany me, I shall meet you at The Leaky Caldron at 19.00 and we can walk over to the restaurant from there._

—_D. Malfoy_

_p.s. Brutus can wait for your response if you send one tonight. Otherwise just send him back. Do not let him smooth talk you into more than two treats._

Hermione smiled and shook her head. _What was she thinking?_ She tore off the bottom 2 inches from the letter and hastily scratched one word: "Yes."


	9. Chapter 9: Not a Date

Everything Falls Apart  
Chapter 9: Not a Date (Unbeta'd)

A/N: Hermione and Draco go on a "not date."

_Saturday, January 9, 2021_  
_Hermione's house_

Hermione glared at her reflection in the mirror. The burgundy wrap dress was the fifth outfit she had tried on for this not-date she had with Draco tonight. She shook her head at the insanity that was her bedroom with the previously rejected clothing flung about. The black dress had been too slutty. The green suit too uptight. Jeans and a jumper too casual. Black robes too business like.

"If I only knew if this was a date or not!" she scolded the mirror while twisting her hair into a tight chignon. "He said it wasn't a date, but that damn Slytherin would say anything to get me to say yes."

She looked over at the clock and growled. 18.30pm. Now she was running late; there was no time to change her clothes yet again. Hermione rummaged through her jewelry box to find matching earrings. Putting the little gold hoops on, she noticed her wedding ring. She had yet to remove from her left hand.

For a moment, Hermione was lost as she thought back to the beginnings of her relationship with Ron. They had never really dated, just stumbled along through a series of mishaps like a romantic comedy from the Yule Ball fiasco of fourth year to Ron's crying, drunken proposal at Harry and Ginny's wedding. Everyone just assumed they would be together, so they just fell into line. It had been . . . comfortable, and now it was over.

This—whatever this was with Draco—was anything but comfortable. This was unchartered territory, and here there be dragons—literally. Hermione giggled to herself at the reference. Date or no—and perhaps it would be easier, more calming to assume it was not a date—she decided not wear her wedding ring any longer. She dropped the ring into the box with the other jewelry where it landed with a heavy clunk.

It was now 18.45pm with no time for make-up the Muggle way. Hermione used her "evening out" cosmetic charm, brushed some lint from her dress, and tucked her wand into her bag. With one last look in the mirror before Apparating away, she realized that this was definitely a date.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_Draco's penthouse flat_

Draco smirked at his reflection in the dressing room mirror. As he brushed his hair and straightened his tie, he realized that he was whistling—a habit Astoria had always hated. He couldn't remember the last time he had whistled while getting ready. When was the last time he had been happy getting ready for a date? In his mind, this was definitely a date; no matter what he told Granger.

As he brushed his teeth, he thought back to his courtship of Astoria. Theirs had been an arranged marriage of two family estates, not two people in love, and the engagement had been highly public. Why the Greengrasses had wanted the alliance with the Malfoys after the War was anyone's guess. Oh yes, the money. Large sums of it and the land holdings could go quite a ways in repairing a war-torn reputation. Astoria and he had been seen at all the newly opened ventures, supporting every one without regard to the blood purity—or lack thereof—of the owners or primary investors. But in private, they had had little in common with each other nor any desire to find much common ground. Their marriage had been expected, and now it was over.

Whatever he felt for Granger was anything but expected. She inflamed his curiosity and his passion. She was a law unto herself, a force of nature within the Ministry. Just thinking about that one night with her over twenty years never failed to make him angry, or horny, or both. Now he was aroused, on edge, and sure to misstep with her tonight if he neglected to take care of himself.

A quick wank in the bathroom followed by a splash of cologne finished his preparations. He winked at himself in the mirror and grabbed his wand and wallet. "Play it how you need to, Granger, but this is so a date."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

_The Leaky Cauldron_

Hermione arrived with a few minutes to spare. Not seeing Draco yet, she headed to the bar and ordered a sparkling water with lemon twist to give her hands something to do while she waited. Just as she brought the glass to her mouth, she felt warmth at her back and heard Draco's greeting, "Granger."

She looked at him through the mirror over the bar and asked, "What would it take for you to call me Hermione?"

"Hmmm. . . maybe a kiss?" he said deliciously close to her ear.

"I thought this wasn't a date, hmm? _Maybe_ a kiss?"

"Um hm," Draco purred.

At this she turned to face him directly. "That makes no sense, Draco Malfoy. We have kissed before and you still call me 'Granger'."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her and smiled sideways. "Yes, but then you ran away after. So, it doesn't count at all, you see."

Hermione huffed in frustration and embarrassment. "Of course, you are right. This one time."

Draco laughed and took the drink out of her hand. "What are you having anyway, Granger?" He grimaced as the water hit his tongue. "Water? Really? Granger, I'm disappointed." He pouted. "Let's go and get something with flavor to drink." He stepped back and motioned her toward the door.

A quick walk in the frosty evening air led them to the door of a little, unlabeled restaurant with a red awning and red-and-white gingham curtains in the window. Inside, semi-circular red leather booths lined the walls with a line of white linen draped tables down the center. The lighting provided a measure of privacy while allowing patrons to see what they were eating. The atmosphere blended classy and comfortable. Hermione loved it immediately.

The maitre 'd showed them to a corner booth and left them with a wine list and menu. It wasn't after Draco had ordered their aperitifs that they picked up their conversation.

"Why are we here again, if this is not a date, Draco?" Hermione asked.

Draco smiled. "The owner wants to retire. The chef wants to buy him out and renovate, but does not have all the capital needed. I like to invest in family, but I also want to ensure I make a good return. The chef is preparing one of his signature creations that would be on the new menu. I couldn't very well come here alone, and as I trust your lead in my other business ventures, I asked you to accompany me. And I do know how you love to offer your opinions."

Hermione's mouth tightened slightly. Draco chuckled, "Oh, Granger, don't take it that way. How else was I supposed to get you to come out with me?"

She wrinkled her nose, hating how transparent she was. Mercifully, a waiter arrived with their cocktails and asked if they wanted to choose their own wines or rely on the recommendations of the chef. With a quick look at Hermione, Draco said, "Our evening is in the chef's capable hands."

With the waiter gone, Draco asked the first question that popped into his head. "So, why did you and Weasley split?

Hermione looked at him like he was daft. "Isn't that a bad conversation for a first date?"

"Ah, but as you insisted, this is not a date."

Hermione grimaced and sighed, "fine," before taking a drink. "After years of a comfortable, if not passionate, marriage, Ron tells me he's gay, apologizes for hurting me, and then shacks up with his lover. Happy?"

With a gleam in his eye, Draco leaned forward, "Really? The Weasel is a poufter?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not a poufter. Just prefers them in his bed. No, Draco," she continued, "get that look of glee out of your eyes. It's not funny. . . really" Her voice broke. She closed her eyes and tried to collect herself.

Draco placed his hand over hers and rearranged his facial expression. "Granger, you're right. I'm sorry you are hurting."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and looked at Draco with suspicion. "What was that?"

"What?" Draco asked in all innocence.

Hermione leaned closer to examine his face, her eyes lingering over his. "It is frightening how fast you can switch that on and off."

Draco was startled. "You saw all that?" He sighed and his countenance shifted again. "Comes in handy to put the mask on and off."

"As a Malfoy?" Hermione asked with one eyebrow cocked.

"Yeah," Draco chuckled.

"Which one is the mask then? The devilish Slytherin, the sincere friend, the innocent, or the cynical Malfoy scion?"

Draco shook his head. "Funny thing is, I don't know any more. Maybe they all are. Maybe they all hold a bit of truth. If you put stock in such things, you could blame it on the fact I was born under the sign of Gemini," he shrugged.

Hermione smiled, "Or maybe, as Jung posited, we are all multiple complexes waiting in the subconscious waiting to express themselves."

Smirking, Draco teased, "Going to analyze me now, huh, Granger? I hear that's not polite on a first date."

"Ah, but as we've established, this is not a date," Hermione laughed.

"Touché."

Just then the waiter brought their meal and wine to the table. "By the chef's compliments, he has prepared for you a pork tenderloin layered on sautéed spinach and golden beets topped with an orange sauce and accompanied by truffled cognac macaroni and cheese. We have paired this with a 1999 Trimbach Cuvée des Seigneurs de Ribeaupierre Gewürztraminer. Enjoy your meal."

For the next several minutes, Hermione and Draco's conversation consisted of low moans of pleasure, handwaving, and short words such as "so good," "mmmm," and "god!" Hermione set her fork to the side to pick up her wine glass and asked Draco, "So, you mentioned investing in family earlier. Who is the chef?"

Draco looked up and replied, "Well, he's coming this way now."

Hermione's eyes widen as she identified the young man in white striding to their table. "Teddy?"

"Aunt Hermione?"

Draco smirked and placed his hand over Hermione's. "Oh, I see you know one another already."


End file.
